


The Call

by LadyofAvalon



Category: Provost's Dog - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyofAvalon/pseuds/LadyofAvalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A war is brewing between Rosto's Court and the Tusaine Court of the Rogue. After being sent a challenge by the Tusaine Rogue, Rosto is forced to go to battle. But before he faces dying without her, he reminds Beka that he will always come when she calls...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily inspired by The Call by Regina Spektor from the Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian soundtrack.

He packed his things silently – only the essentials, only the things he truly thought he needed. It was early in the morning, too early for anyone to be up without meaning to be. That was the time Rosto the Piper had chosen to pack. He was leaving Corus for a time, but he did not want to. There was a war brewing, a war between Rogues. Tusaine had made an unprovoked attack to one of the cities close to the border, and killed the Rogue there.

Now, Rosto had to go fix this problem. He didn't have a choice. If he didn't, then it would turn into an all-out war, and both Tortall and Tusaine would lose a great deal. Even more likely, he would lose everything he loved, because he would be the main target – the Rogue who wouldn't come out of his hidey-hole.

Once done, he put his pack outside his door, which was propped open, and sat down at his desk. He would leave Phelan to watch over his throne, but make sure that the rushers and other Rats left behind knew that Phelan was not to be challenged, as Phelan was not the Rogue, Rosto still was. And only a challenge to Rosto would hold any validity. Since Aniki was coming with him, Kora would take the place of Queen of the Ladies of the Rogue if need be. All the loose ends were tied. Except for one: he had yet to tell Beka that he, and Aniki, were leaving. There were a number of ways he could tell her – in a note pinned to her door, in person, or have Kora tell her after they had left. As much as he wanted to leave as soon as possible, he knew his best alternative was to tell Beka in person. Besides, he had something to give to her. And he wanted to tell her in person – he didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to her. Rosto knew that there was a very great chance that he wouldn't come back from this alive. Sometimes even the strongest and the best rushers didn't come back from brawls, or, in this case, battles.

Sighing, Rosto pulled out a quill, dipped it in ink, and started a note to Phelan, telling him of the tasks that he wanted completed in his absence. By the time he was done with that, and the other notes and letters he needed to write before leaving were as well, the sun had risen. He put everything away, made sure he had all of his daggers, and placed his sword outside the door with his pack. He leaned against the railing, looking down at the first floor of the boarding house. There was movement upstairs and he knew that either Aniki or Beka – probably the latter, since the noise sounded closer to his room – was up as well. It wouldn't be long until breakfast.

Silently, Rosto moved back into his room and sat down on his bed. For a while, he pondered what his future could hold, should he return from this battle alive. Thoughts drifted to the front of his mind; ones he found disturbing: what it might be like if he didn't. That idea did not please the young Scanran in the least. In particular because of his throne, and, well, it wasn't like the second reason was really going to allow herself to be one of his reasons. Beka had, in fact, punched him the last time he'd kissed her. Even so, that bruise had been worth it.

"Rosto. Rosto, are you coming?" He looked up to see that Kora had appeared in the doorway. He nodded and got to his feet, glancing in the mirror to make sure his pale blond horsetail wasn't messed up.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss breakfast with my friends for what could be the last time in a very long time," he said. Rosto followed her up the stairs, his mind still wandering. When he entered the room, Beka, Aniki, Phelan, and Ersken were laughing at something. He paid little attention to them until Beka tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're awfully quiet today, Master the Piper," she said, still grinning from whatever had been so funny. Rosto smiled slightly.

"Yes, I am. I've been thinking…I need to talk to you. In private. Please, Beka?" He asked. She nodded, and followed him out of the room. They went down the steps and stopped outside of his room. "Aniki and I are leaving in a little while," he told her. Beka looked shocked for a moment, then she frowned at him. He hadn't told her about this, nor had he told he about the Rogue war.

"My Court is at war with the Tusaine Rogue's. There is most likely going to be a battle. Aniki and I have to be there when it happens, or the Tusaine Rogue will continue to destroy towns and maybe even start on fiefs. He issued a challenge of sorts to me. If I show, and we win, he won't attack us anymore. If I don't show, or we lose, he will continue this war with my successor." He stopped and waited for her response. She looked stunned for a moment, then nodded.

"Oh. You'll be away for a long time, won't you?" She asked. He nodded sadly.

"It looks like it, but I can't be sure," he replied. Slowly, without taking his eyes from hers, he raised a hand and brushed a few strands of dark blond hair from her face, running his finger tenderly across her cheek as he drew it away. "You know I care for you, Beka," he said, pausing for just a moment. "I have something for you." He slipped his hand onto his pocket and pulled a chain from it. The pendant was a simple clear crystal that glittered in the light streaming from the window visible through his still open door. Beka reached to touch it, her eyes wide.

"It's beautiful…" she said. She glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes. "Did you steal this, Rosto?" He grinned.

"No, you silly gixie, I bought it. I can even show you the receipt if you're going to be picky," he told her matter-of-factly. "But don't you even think about trying to pay me back. It's a gift." Rosto watched as she nodded, examining the pendant. After a moment, she looked up again, curious this time. For some reason, she had the feeling that Rosto hadn't just bought it for her because it was pretty.

"Why? Why did you get this for me?" She asked. Rosto's grin grew wider.

"I thought you would like it. And I had it charmed by a mage. If you need me, anytime, just whisper my name into it, and I'll hear," he paused to pull a chain from his own shirt. The pendant was similar, but still very different. It was a disk of crystal with a pewter crow in flight imprinted on it. "The charm will only work once, so use it carefully," he said. Beka nodded and turned to go when he caught her, pulling her to him.

"Don't think you're going to get away without thanking me," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. She stared at him for a moment, completely confused, until he pressed his lips lightly to hers. Much to his pleasure, this time, Beka didn't slug him. Instead, she kissed him back. When they pulled apart for breath, he smiled at her. It wasn't an arrogant smile, just a content one; and his eyes glittered happily.

"Remember, just call when you need me. I'll come. I promise, I'll always come," he whispered. She nodded, and he gave her a last squeeze and a kiss on the forehead as Aniki came down the stairs. He picked up his pack and sword, and walked down the second flight of stairs, giving her a last look over his shoulder. She smiled faintly as she watched his retreating back. She ran back upstairs and watched as he and Aniki mounted their horses and turned them to the street. Rosto glanced up to her window and raised a hand in farewell when he saw her watching him.

Then he nudged his horse and they were off. Beka watched them go, hoping that it wasn't the last time she was ever going to see them. If Rosto ever came back, then she would give him the chance he seemed to want to desperately. She only hoped that he did come back. The Lower City just wouldn't be the same without him.


	2. The Dance

Sleep did not come easily for Rosto the Piper. It had been three weeks since his departure from Corus, and half a day since he had met the Tusaine Rogue on the battlefield. The Tusaine Rogue was almost his exact opposite. He was a short Carthaki who kept his black hair close-cropped. He had not been pleased that Rosto had actually shown up. He had been hoping to be able to continue to work his way through Tortall until one of his assassins could kill Rosto and take the throne.

The way the other Rogue had talked had made Rosto nervous – his constant threats had gotten vulgar after he had failed to get a rise out of Rosto. But, it wasn't just nerves that were keeping Rosto awake. His mind was far away, back in Corus. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on there. He wished he knew what was happening, and if his friends were doing alright. Mainly, though, his thoughts were on Beka. It had surprised him that she had let him kiss her, and that she hadn't slugged him. He could remember what she had said the last time, when she had, in fact, punched him. Maybe she wasn't as resistant to his affections as she made it seem. The sparkle in her eyes after the kiss, the briefest flash of fear when he had told her that he and Aniki were leaving for this war – she did care, at least. Maybe more than she had let on. Maybe, did she feel the same as he did? That was another reason he had to make it through this battle. He needed to know, because he loved her. He needed to know if she loved him, too.

As the dawn's light filtered in, Rosto sighed, pulling his loose blond hair into a neat horsetail. He put his shirt on and carefully placed his daggers. That was followed by some light leather armor – it was all he had; all he had had time to get before rushing off to this calamity waiting to happen. He knew there was a battle coming. There was no way of avoiding it. He was going to have to be ready. Rosto fingered the crystal disk pendant before buckling his sword onto his belt. The dance had begun.

* * *

Around him, the battle raged. Rushers fell on either side of him, dying from blows their opponents dealt them. Rosto himself was injured, but there was no way out of the battle. His sword flashed through the air in front of him, felling the Tusaine rusher who failed to bring his own sword up in time.

His next challenger moved forward before the last had even fallen. Rosto brought his blade up to block the other man's only to have it wrenched from his grasp by the blow. He moved away, just out of the sword's reach and pulled a dagger from its sheath. With a flick of his wrist, it flew through the air, hitting the man in the chest.

An explosion shook the ground, throwing Rosto, and most of the others around him, to the dirt.

"Rosto!" He jerked his head up at the sound of his name over the pandemonium. It was Aniki who was calling him. He was on his feet with the dagger in his hand again in seconds. He stooped to pick up his sword as he passed. She called again, and it was followed by the clash of metal against metal. When he finally caught sight of her, she was dueling three rushers at once. Aniki was one of the best swordswomen in the world, but she was not good enough to hold off three good rushers at once for long.

Rosto dodged through the fights in progress and raced toward his friend. Just as one of the rushers had an opening, Rosto thrust his sword in the way. Metal clanged and the rusher was taken aback by the fact that someone had actually stopped him. While Rosto fought off his opponent, Aniki took both of the others down. His opponent fell, but suddenly, Aniki and Rosto were surround by more rushers. Panting, the King of the Rogue looked at his Queen.

"This doesn't look good," he said quietly. Aniki's blue eyes met his night-black ones.

"No, it doesn't," she replied, slashing at a rusher who came too close.

Rosto ducked under a blade, bringing his own up. Once more, metal clashed against metal. In time, he began to lose himself to the battle. He began to realize that the motions of the mêlée were beautiful, in their own way. While he was fighting for his life, an eerie calm fell over him. There was more than the battle. He and Aniki realized it as they moved. In all things, there was a dance. It was strange how they had never noticed before. But as they fought, the power of the idea hit them. They were just the dancers, and their life was the when one of the dancers fell, the dance still went on. The dance was life itself, with its many twists and turns. Everything was the dance. Everything _was._

Rosto whirled, bringing his blade up again. The Tusaine Rogue stood in front of him, blade raised, dark eyes glittering dangerously. With a sneer, he drove his blade toward Rosto, who dodged it easily. Rosto brought his blade down on the other Rogue's and twisted, trying to disarm the other man. Instead, his own sword went flying once more when the Carthaki countered the move and turned it back on him.

Rosto leaped back out of the way of the other sword, looking around for his own before drawing a dagger. When the other Rogue slashed at his throat, Rosto ducked and kicked his legs from under him. His opponent fell, then twisted, knocking Rosto off his feet. Rosto flicked a dagger from a sheath, and with another flick of his wrist, sent it at the Tusaine Rogue. It flew wide, leaving Rosto without a defense. His dark brown eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet and looked for the sword that had been knocked from his grasp. He ducked another slash from the other Rogue and dove for the hilt. Even as his hand closed around the hilt and he brought the sword up, it was too late. The other man had brought his sword up and slashed at Rosto. The blade scored through the little armor he wore and sliced into his chest. Rosto fell with a low groan and the Tusaine Rogue moved on, his opponent defeated…

A last thought lingered in Rosto's mind as he slipped to unconsciousness. His promise to Beka. He was breaking it now. Her name echoed on his lips as he was enveloped by sweet blackness.

* * *


	3. The Call

Laughter rang through the street of Nipcopper Close not half an hour past the end of Evening Watch. It was then that Beka and Ersken halted where they stood and looked around. Nipcopper Close was deserted. No one walked the streets as they usually did. Not even a Night Watch Dog was on the prowl. All that was on the street was a wagon and a pair of horses tied to the back of it.

Beka and Ersken exchanged glances. Those were the horses that Rosto and Aniki had left on. Beka felt her mouth go dry as they walked closer. Why were the horses tied to the back of the wagon? Unless – was one of them, Aniki or Rosto, injured to the point that they could not ride?

A clatter from inside followed by a strangled cry of pain and a litany of cursing brought the two from their daze. What was going on? Beka and Ersken were off in a heartbeat, rushing into the lodging house. Aniki was seated at one of the tables, her head in her hands. Her lithe frame shook from suppressed sobs. She looked up when Beka and Ersken entered. Tears filled her blue eyes, which held a look of utter hopelessness.

Beka froze. Tears formed in her own eyes before she even realized that they had. It seemed to hit her all at once. Had Rosto – had he possibly been…defeated?

"He didn't," she breathed. It wasn't possible. Rosto couldn't have lost. "Is he…?" The look on her face was one of absolute horror. Ersken's mirrored it, but to a slightly lesser degree. She searched Aniki's face for any sign of hope. Finally, the Queen of the Rouge shook her head.

"No. But he's hurt. Very badly," the other mot whispered. "I don't think he'll make it," she said quietly, fighting not to cry. She was Queen of the Rogue. She had to be strong.

Beka, however, couldn't handle it. A sob escaped her, while tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her mind was numb with the information. It seemed like suddenly, she cared more about the Piper than she should. A part of her mind told her that it had all just been a matter of time. She would have fallen for him eventually, and one day, he wouldn't have come home.

Ersken put his arm around her as Kora came down the stairs. She glanced at him with a look similar to Aniki's, one of pain, and the knowledge of impending loss. She nodded her head to the stairs, telling him to take Beka up there. He nodded in response and started to lead his friend up the stairs.

There was a strange look of fear in Beka's eyes, one that had nothing to do with Rosto's critical condition. She was afraid that she had really fallen in love with him. What was worse was that when she was finally coming to realize that she did have feelings for him, whatever they were, he was being ripped from her. That look scared Ersken a little. It made him wonder what would happen if either he or Kora was put in a similar situation.

Beka put her hand over her mouth and tried to fight off her tears as they slowly neared the first landing. Why did this have to be happening? It just wasn't fair that Rosto was dying now. It wasn't fair that he was dying at all. He had been so full of life when she had last seen him. There had been hope in his eyes, and a sweetness to his deep voice that she hadn't noticed before. Now it seemed like all fairness had disappeared.

That was just it. Life wasn't fair, and Beka knew it as well as anyone who lived in the Lower City. She had lost her mother several years ago, and her father had been gone for many a year. She had fought her way through the Shadow Snake case, and everything that life could throw her way since. Beka's thoughts drifted as Ersken led her upstairs. What if he did make it through? What if he didn't? Her thoughts were a blur of questions, hopes, and shattered pieces – images of memories and times she had never dared to hope for. Now, a litany of prayers filled her mind. _Please let Rosto be alright,_ she thought. _Don't let him die._

Her silent pleadings slipped away as Phelan appeared from the doorway to Rosto's room, making sure the door clicked shut behind him. Pained whimpers could be heard from the room, but they never really reached Beka's ears. Her mind was too numb, and her heart too pain stricken to truly hear them. Even if she wasn't losing someone she could really say she loved in a romantic way, she would still be losing one of her closest friends.

"Beka," Phelan addressed her softly. She looked up at him hopefully, but his expression gave her nothing to cling to. "Rosto said that you were to read this," he told her, holding out a sealed envelope. Beka numbly accepted it, breaking open the seal to read the neat script on the ivory paper.

_Dearest Beka,_

_This letter in itself is hard for me to write. The words don't seem to want to come. I'm going to be completely honest with you. The battle is laid out before me, but I can't keep something from my mind. You. You are all I've been able to think of since I left. It is both painful and what has kept me from giving up. I have been attacked verbally and physically by the Tusaine Rogue and his rushers, but there is still an eerie calm upon me. I keep thinking about what will happen if I don't make it back, or even if I do._

_I know that things will change either way. If I am to die today in the coming battle, at least know this: I love you. I don't know when I first noticed it, and I know that you don't want it, but I do love you. How or why, I cannot answer. I know that it should not have happened, but I think it would have happened anyway, no matter how resistant either of us was. I cannot help but wonder what will happen between us if I do make it through the battle. Even if I don't, you know you have my love, even if you don't want it._

_Take care, Beka._

_With all my heart,  
Rosto the Piper, King of the Rogue_

Beka bit her lip, a single warm tear slipping down her cheek as she read the words he had written. Phelan had moved back to lean against the door, and had turned his gaze away. Ersken had joined him. Beka looked up at them, her ghost-eyes glittering with yet unshed tears.

"Move," she said. Her voice was low, but left little room for argument. Ersken moved over, but Phelan, at odds with orders from his king, didn't.

"He doesn't want you to see him like this, Beka. He's in great pain…" he trailed off, trying to offer those as decent reasons, which they were. Beka would hear none of it. Her eyes turned hard, to pools of ice. Phelan flinched.

"Phelan, if you don't let me through, I'll knock you out," she told him. Her hand slipped down to her baton holster, and undid the fastening that kept the baton in place. Phelan paled slightly, but didn't move.

"Please, Beka. Rosto doesn't want you to see what the Tusaine Rogue did to him. He doesn't want you to try to save him when he's too far gone. He doesn't want to cause you more pain," he tried to reason with her. She just shook her head. She slipped the baton from the holster and moved forward.

"I will say this one more time. Let me through, Phelan." When he didn't move, she raised the baton and moved to give the rusher a nap-tap. He neatly avoided it, and brought his hand up, grabbing her wrist. She snarled at him and tried to pull free, tears streaming down her face. "I don't care what he wants! I need to see him. Just once," she pleaded, struggling against the rusher. Phelan wouldn't let her go, no matter how hard she tried to push past him. Finally, she gave up, letting her knees collapse under her. Phelan let her slide to the floor, where she sat miserably, brushing some of her tears away. A low moan from the other side of the door made her burst into tears again as the sounds of the pain Rosto was in finally made their way through her brain.

"Beka, do you really need to see Rosto that badly?" Phelan asked, kneeling down next to her. She nodded, unable to find the words she wanted to use. "Alright," he relented, pulling her up from the floor. Beka gave him a grateful smile before he opened the door for her.

She silently slipped into the room. There were many candles lit around the room, both magical and non-magical, making it nearly as bright as daylight. It was easy for her to spot Rosto. She gasped when she saw the wound he bore from his battle with the Tusaine Rogue. His shirt had been stripped off, leaving the pale skin of his chest and the angry red of the wound starkly visible. A great gash slashed diagonally across his chest from his right shoulder almost to his left hip. His dark eyes were clouded with pain, and his nearly white hair was covered in sweat. His face, usually handsome despite the scars, was truly white, and held a grimace of pain. A healer knelt next to him, silvery magic sparkling weakly at his fingertips.

The glow of the healer's Gift disappeared from the wound on Rosto's chest as the healer sagged with exhaustion. Beka moved over to the bed and knelt by Rosto's head, searching his face for a glimmer, anything. The breaths he drew were unsteady though not shallow, until a new wave of pain washed over him with the disappearance of the healing magic. He gasped, the hand close to Beka convulsing against the sheets under him. Another gasp followed that, until he wasn't breathing normally at all, just gasping with the pain that each movement of his chest caused. He wasn't even aware that she was kneeling by him. The sable eyes that she stared into saw nothing; he was almost completely taken by the pain. Then she heard her name whispered as the gasps suddenly calmed. She looked up to see Rosto's head turned slightly. Their eyes met and the faintest of smiles appeared on his lips, only to be replaced by an expression of complete pain a second later.

Beka glanced back at Kora as she entered the room. The other mot about dropped what she held when she saw the other healer slumped against the bed-frame in fatigue. Her magic was instantly at her fingertips as she moved toward Rosto. Kora's Gift washed over him, glittering softly. Though she was not a healer, it did help. Rosto's breathing quieted, but it quickly became apparent to them that it wasn't in a good way. His eyes became glassy as he struggled to breathe. Beka put her hand on his, watching helplessly as he began to slip away. She glanced desperately at Kora, who already had tears flowing down her cheeks. Slowly, the shimmer of her magic withdrew and disappeared. Kora knelt down and just sat there, seemingly dumbstruck.

Beka buried her face her hands, trying her hardest not to cry. A small item hit the insides of her wrists in quick succession. She moved one hand down to see what it was and her hand came away with a delicate chain with a simple clear crystal hanging from it. She looked up at Rosto briefly, noting how shallow his breathing was, and the fact that, though they had removed his shirt, the pendant he wore was still on. In a last, desperate attempt, Beka unhooked the clasp on her necklace and held it up, closing the pendant in her hand. After a moment, she raised her hand and closed her eyes.

"Rosto, I need you. Please, don't let go. Don't die on me. I need you to come back," she whispered. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she looked up at him. He stirred just barely, seeming to strengthen for a moment. The glassy look in his eyes seemed to fade. Sable and ghost-colored gazes met once more, then one dimmed, fading again. With an immense effort, Rosto lifted his hand and held it out to her. She placed her hand in his, and his hand tightened against hers. He groaned again, grimacing from the pain in his chest. Neither of them noticed Kora shifting to her feet and moving closer, her magic sparkling around the wound again. Beka about burst into tears again before he squeezed her hand once more.

"It's okay, Beka. It's okay," Rosto said hoarsely. His voice was shot with pain, and it was clear that every word cost him. Beka nodded, pressing the back of his hand to her cheek. He offered a weak, clearly pained smile.

They waited together for a few more minutes before another healer arrived. Seeing her colleague passed out where Kora had managed to move him to, she quickly crossed to the King of the Rogue. Yellow-orange magic flared and moved down the gash on Rosto's chest, touching blue-green and swirling as it went. When it pulled back, the cut was still there, but it was mostly healed. Only the deepest part of the wound was still red, and that was only just.

Without thinking, Beka flung her arms around his neck in a hug. Rosto let out a surprised and almost agonized grunt, but hugged her back.

"Gently, Beka. I'm not better yet," he told her softly. She pulled back, looking apologetic. Before she could get up, he pulled her back down, capturing her lips with his own. The kiss was soft and sweet, until it was interrupted by Aniki, Phelan, and Ersken bursting into the room. Rosto made a noise of disgust at them.

"I told you I'd come, Beka. All you had to do was call…" he whispered softly in her ear


End file.
